Non Incantatio
by thatswhyyyoudont
Summary: Slash. The gentleman with the thistledown hair takes it upon himself to nurse a poorly Stephen.


"Stephen?"

Stephen knew who it was before the gentleman had even spoke. He had felt the familiar unfolding of the magic from behind his eyelids, and opened them now to find himself on a bed of furs and silk, in a room he had never seen before. The gentleman was at his side and looking at him with concern. Stephen was distracted from his attentions at that moment, in looking at the beauty of the room; thick carpets covered the floor, and candles and shaped lanterns were positioned in each corner, unneeded at present, as a huge window on the other side of the room, that revealed only the sky, let in sufficient light. Small, flowered plants that Stephen didn't recognise gave the room a faint aroma similar to honeysuckle. Handsome but sinister-looking swords were mounted on one wall, and ornaments and precious stones decorated the gentleman's carved wooden furniture. A bookshelf contained a number of oddly colourful volumes, as if they were decoration accessories rather than anything of academic worth. Despite its beauty, something about the room unnerved Stephen, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"Stephen," the gentleman spoke again, and this time Stephen looked at him. "You're poorly."For the first time that Stephen had seen, the gentleman was looking sympathetic and worried, without any concern for himself, and it softened him. His features had lost their usual calculating malice.

"I have been, sir. But I've been feeling much better as of late."

The gentleman was nodding. "I saw. They treat you infernally, Stephen! They gave you such muck to eat - you, a kind and noble spirit in need of nourishment to restore your senses - and then abandoned you for hours on end, barely even looking in on you!" The gentleman was getting worked up to a stage more common to his temperament, and Stephen attempted to placate him. He was about to protest that the gruel they gave him was restorative, and that his solitude was necessary to not effect the rest of the household and necessary to his own needs, but the gentleman was already moving on. "I'm terribly sorry I couldn't get to you sooner, Stephen. I thought it best for you to not attend the balls for several nights for your own health, though I sincerely apologise for giving no explanation for this at the time. I'm sure everyone has missed you sorely, but you needed your rest."

Stephen nodded warily.

The gentleman continued. "I did try to keep a watch over you from afar, as I mentioned, but I have been caught up in such troublesome business that I could not actually attend to you personally. I have missed several of the engagements myself!" He added.

Stephen let the gentleman chatter on about what had kept him so occupied, and in the meantime found his eyes drifting around the room again. A large crystal mirror faced him, and Stephen was glad to see that he did seem somewhat recovered to how he had looked several days ago. A pleasant painting of a landscape hung just where the light caught it, making the stream it contained seem to shimmer. It occurred to Stephen that he should be alarmed at waking up on a strange bed, let alone a strange room, but this was the gentleman; he was becoming so accustomed to the fairy's ways that he doubted any acts of the sort could alarm him any more.

"I understand, sir," Stephen said, when the gentleman seemed to have finished. "Please don't worry - I wouldn't have liked you to trouble yourself so on my account." This last seemed rather silly to Stephen, as the gentleman had done nothing but trouble himself on Stephen's account since they met, but the gentleman only laughed fondly. "Are these your private quarters, sir?"

"Yes."

"So this is your bed, sir? But where will you sleep?"

"Oh, I rarely sleep, Stephen," he said dismissively.

Stephen expected a story of one of the swords mounted on the wall, or perhaps the small dagger beneath them, surely possessing and bloodthirsty past, but the gentleman merely returned his attention to Stephen's health.

"You're quite sure you feel better, Stephen?" he asked plaintively, once more looking so anxious and innocent that Stephen, and no-one, or so Stephen believed, could believe him capable of his bloodthirsty and malicious deeds. His delicate features and fair skin denied it. Indeed, those and his sheer obliviousness to the feelings and intentions of others rendered him almost vulnerable, in Stephen's eyes. "Stephen?" the gentleman said again, and placed a cool palm to the servant's forehead.

"Yes, yes," he said, almost flinching a little in surprise to the touch. "Much better. My fever has passed, and now I only suffer from the occasional mild ache or pain - which are nothing."

"Aches and pains!" said the gentleman in distress. "Stephen, will you allow me to help you? I have the perfect charm that can ease such things."

"Thank you sir, you're very kind, but I'm sure there is no need. Sleep and rest, probably just for one more day, will cure me."

The gentleman looked disappointed. "I have let you down, Stephen," he said sadly. "I was not there for you when you needed me most."

"On the contrary, sir," Stephen said quickly. He thought hard. "Right now I crave rest away from household noise and the like the very most."

The gentleman smiled radiantly, and started to say something, but just then Stephen noticed what had been bothering him about the room. It had no door. The gentleman, meanwhile, had fetched what now appeared to be a necklace from a drawer, and now hung it around Stephen's neck. "For good health," he explained.

"Thank you very much, sir." He paused. "Sir?" He said again, puzzled, glancing around in case he had somehow missed it. "Forgive me, sir, but your chambers seem to be missing a door."

The gentleman laughed merrily. "Oh, I have never bothered with them. Very tiresome things, doors. If you wish to leave, Stephen, you have only to tell me!" He said this genially enough, but Stephen felt a stir of unease. "I'm sure you wish to be left in peace now," the gentleman said regretfully. Stephen looked at him in surprise, for it was rare for the gentleman to show even the slightest conception of another's feelings. "There is a washing room here for you," he said, indicating a drawn crimson curtain that Stephen hadn't noticed. "And if you need anything at all..." he presented Stephen with a small, silver bell. "You have only to ring."

"But sir, I could not summon you like a mere servant," Stephen protested feebly.

"Nonsense, Stephen," the gentleman laughed. "It is merely one friend calling to another. Now, please feel free to look amongst any books in my absence, if you wish for amusement. I have a lot of poetry. I wish I could stay and keep you company, but I believe my chattering will not aid your recovery at all."

Stephen made a grateful murmur in reply.

"Sleep well, my friend!" And with that, the gentleman with the thistledown hair was gone.

Stephen awoke feeling much recovered. Sleep away from household noise, on such a comfortable bed, in a room so sweet smelling it was almost like snoozing in the open air, although it was more than warm enough, was more soothing than Stephen could have imagined. He fingered the necklace the gentleman had given him and wondered. He thought he had woken at one point and seen the gentleman sleeping on the golden lounger to his right, but he must have dreamt it as the room was now vacant save for him. He had no idea how long he had been here; the gentleman possessed no clock that he could see, and the sky at the window looked the same.

He was beginning to feel rather hungry, but despite the gentleman's assurances, he did not feel comfortable with the bell in his possession, and made up his mind to wait for the gentleman to return of his own accord. Just then, he noticed a change; the room now possessed a door. Its presence was strangely comforting. So much so that Stephen gathered the confidence to ring the bell. The gentleman appeared before him in an instant.

"Stephen," he beamed. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, thank you sir."

"Wonderful! Let me get you something. You must be hungry."

"I...a glass of water.."

One appeared instantly on the bedside table.

"Thank you, sir," Stephen said gratefully. He moved to sit up, and found that he could do so with ease. Propping himself up against the gentleman's pillows, Stephen sipped his water. "Are we in a different room, sir?" Stephen asked. "I noticed there is a door."

"Same room," the gentleman said cheerfully. "But I know you like your doors, Stephen."

But Stephen could express his thanks, a tray appeared before him, laden with small cakes, fruit, miniature pork pies, bread and butter and other fine foods. "Just leave what you do not want, Stephen," the gentleman said, laughing at the look on the man's face. "It's just a snack, as you haven't had lunch."

"Sir, you're very kind..but this food is much too fine for me."

The gentleman raised his eyebrows. "Who told you that? Rich folks have different stomachs to servants, do they? I wish you wouldn't say such things, Stephen," the gentleman said, shaking his head.

Pleased to hear what he had always secretly thought spoken aloud, Stephen picked up a cake.

When they had both ate their fill, the gentleman let the tray disappear. "Feeling better?"

"Much, thank you, sir," Stephen murmured, though in truth he was beginning to ache again. He ignored it and hoped it would go away.

"What is it?"

"Nothing much, sir. Just a slight ache in my back. That is all."

"Oh, Stephen," he said, eyes softening again to the purest blue. "I wish you would let me do more for you. Here, let me..." The gentleman stood up and moved behind Stephen and, thinking he was about to adjust the pillows, Stephen shifted forward out of his way. He then felt the warmth of the gentleman's weight on the bed behind him, and gave a little start when he felt those delicate hands on his shoulders, beginning to massage him.

"Sir!" he said in surprise, but could not protest much further, as the motion was terribly soothing. Gradually, Stephen felt his discomfort fade away. The gentleman had hummed to himself quietly at first, but now they sat in silence. Stephen began to feel peaceful and almost sleepy, and caught himself unintentionally leaning back into the gentleman once or twice. For some reason, he felt a little afraid. "Sir?" he hazarded. "I hope it isn't impertinent of me to ask, but...have you charmed me?"

The gentleman, whose hands had slowed when Stephen addressed him, now resumed their previous stroke. "No, I haven't, Stephen. You're just relaxed. I don't need magic for that."

Stephen could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, and before he could reply, the gentleman had slipped his hands into Stephen's pyjama shirt, and was massaging him there. Again, some instinct urged him to protest, but he couldn't bring himself. Behind him, the gentleman gave a little sigh, as if in contentment. After what felt like an age, both to Stephen's disappointment and relief, the gentleman took his hands away. Stephen was a little embarrassed, feeling almost as if he had been in the gentleman's arms for an hour or so, and struggled to meet his eye when he moved forward to sit in front of him.

The fairy was kneeling on the bed and looking at Stephen with a curious intensity in his eyes. Stephen didn't understand until the gentleman took his face in his hands and kissed him.

"Sir," he said weakly. It was meant to be a protest, but came out as something quite different. He could feel himself trembling. The gentleman kissed him again, just as gently, as if he knew he would be met with little resistance. His hands left Stephen's face to trace his torso, slide under his shirt and ghost over his quivering skin. Stephen heard a little moan, and realised it was himself. The gentleman's lips and mouth tasted impossibly sweet, and his hands were warm and smooth and delicate, and explored him in a way that made him feel hot all over. In the next few seconds, Stephen found himself shirtless, though neither of them had moved, but before he could react, he realised that the gentleman was similarly unclothed, and Stephen's breath was drawn sharply in his throat. The gentleman took one of Stephen's hands and kissed the palm, before moving down to kiss his abdomen.

"Sir," he choked, so quietly that he doubted the gentleman could understand him. The gentleman's hand traced his crotch through his pyjamas, and Stephen closed his eyes, ashamed of the intensity of his body's reaction. He wanted to demand the gentleman to stop at once, but he didn't trust himself to speak just then. He felt a slight waft of air as his pyjama trousers disappeared, leaving him exposed below the gentleman, and then the gentleman began to touch him, and oh! those porcelain fingers were like feathers and down, so incredibly light and swift and wonderful. Stephen was already panting, but arched his back and let out a small cry when he felt the gentleman's hand replaced with his mouth. He gave up, then. Did not try to fight a moment longer, just let his head hang back and his eyes close and his fingers grip the bed spread, nearly sobbing with pleasure.

It was only when the gentleman stopped and sat up, entwined his fingers with Stephen's, that Stephen opened his eyes and saw that he, too, was fully undressed. He was unmoving for a moment, and looked so beautiful and and fragile that Stephen felt sure he'd never want anyone more. The gentleman's pause seemed deliberate, as if giving Stephen time to appreciate his form, but now he took hold of Stephen and slid the man into himself with one slick, slow movement. When joined to Stephen, the gentleman closed his eyes and dug his fingernails into Stephen's skin. With one hand, he snatched hold of Stephen's and guided it to himself, between his legs, and held it there.

Stephen embraced the gentleman and ran his hands through his hair, touching it for the very first time, and the touch made the fairy shudder and let out a little mewl from his throat. And then he began to move, and Stephen could no longer think. He let the gentleman touch his jaw and kiss him, and before long began to lost his rhythm and cry out, holding at Stephen's back. Stephen began to shake and saw white.

When Stephen woke, the gentleman was still in his arms with his head buried in the crook of Stephen's neck, despite his claim of needing little sleep. Limbs entangled, he looked at their skin together, fair on the blackest of black, and let his face slowly drop back into the gentleman's impossibly soft, silver hair. The gentleman sighed in his sleep, but otherwise didn't move. Stephen tugged the blanket up further to cover their bodies, and thought, in a detached sort of way, of the sins he would have to carry with him forever; lying not only with a male, but with a killer, an unchristian, an inhuman creature.

Stephen experienced a momentary, irrational fear that the gentleman would never wake up, and he would be trapped here forever. Then he remembered that the room now had a door, though it could only be an illusion, an aesthetic comfort to Stephen rather than an actual means to escape. But his fears were unfounded, as the gentleman was beginning to stir.

"Hello, darling," he said sleepily, and nuzzled Stephen's throat.

Tense with an odd mix of regret and tenderness, Stephen murmured a reply to the gentleman, and closed his eyes once more.


End file.
